Back to backgammon.

I don’t have a competitive streak. I’m too nice. But
what microscopic smidgen of meanness I possess comes out when I play backgammon.
It’s my favorite game. Josh taught me to play the same way he showed me how to
use chopsticks: with indifferent

Our best of 3 games became best
of 5, or best of 7, or pretty much whatever it took so Josh would finally win.
Or he would blame beer, or white wine, or any variation thereof, as long as it
wasn’t because of skill that I actually

Backgammon is part skill, part
chance, part boldness, and all flexibility. As with all betting games, a fair
amount of heckling and psyching out is involved. Josh used to rattle the dice in
his holder in an inane imitation of maracas. JJ pretended to be sleepy. I
adopted a treacly-sweet uber-niceness meant to irritate anyone within fifty

After years of dust gathering on
my backgammon set, I’ve picked it up again – this time online – thanks to an
invitation from Josh the other day. We had one game, which he promptly lost.

Ah, what fun. Backgammon,